


A Fluffy Story

by Makkoska



Category: Naruto
Genre: Fluff, M/M, PWP, happy B-day Madara, happy-au-ish settings, winter story
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-25
Updated: 2014-12-25
Packaged: 2018-03-03 11:41:13
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,880
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2849615
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Makkoska/pseuds/Makkoska
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A cold, lonely winter night turns more enjoyable than Hashirama predicted it can be.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Fluffy Story

**Author's Note:**

> Warnings: for fluffy porn. I mean it. This is explicit and fluffy in more ways than one.   
> Theme: PWP. Happy-AU-Madara-stayed-in-Konoha-Everything-is-Well settings

 

“So cold,” Hashirama mumbled, hastening his steps. “I wonder if this thing is also for keeping him warm, not just for the show.” He adjusted the light package under his arm and pulled his scarf higher. Luckily nobody was seen on the streets, so even the Hokage could afford talking to himself.

 

It was only late afternoon, but already so dark as if they were in the middle of the night. Apparently all of Konoha’s inhabitants decided that they would just shut themselves in their homes for the rest of the day. He was only outside too as he had a very important mission.

 

He could only blame himself. He should have known better than to start a pointless argument with his brother. That conversation was bound to end badly from the beginning. Hashirama was already tipsy, Tobirama already grumpy… how it escalated to tipping a bottle of sake onto the younger man was hard to tell in retrospect. Family bonding was a hard thing under the best of circumstances.

 

Watching his little brother getting a fit wasn’t amusing at all. Hashirama could just partially recall all the insults, all the hurt he poured on him, but that was more than enough. They were along two major lines, the “how can a drunken pig like you call yourself our leader, I can’t believe I have a man like you as my brother”, and the more painful “I always knew you have no love and respect for me, you treat me like I’m just your dog.”

 

Both were very unjust and it took -at least it seemed so- hours to calm him down. In the end Hashirama was ready to promise him the stars and the moon just to get him in a better mood… and Tobirama was ready to make the best of his offers.

 

That was why he was out on the icy streets, skipping on patches of frozen snow. He had to get new clothes for Tobirama, instead of those he stained with alcohol. They also had to be of best quality and be ready as soon as it was possible.

 

“But nothing is impossible for the first Hokage of this wonderful village,” Hashirama chuckled to himself, and really, he was proud of his purchase.

 

A few rabbits had to sacrifice themselves in the name of Senju family peace, but the new fur collar for his little brother was bigger, softer and whiter than the old ever was.

 

Quite probably warmer too. Hashirama had the urge to wrap it around his own neck, but it started to snow in small, hard little flakes, and he didn’t want to hand over this glorious fluffiness ruined by cold wetness.

 

It was altogether rather frustrating when it turned out Tobirama wasn’t at home, spoiling his surprise and his lingering cheerfulness.

 

Sighing, he hurried home, wishing to be rid of his half-frozen clothes. As soon as he was through the door, he shed them, letting them scatter about on the floor. He took out his thickest, warmest blanket, and wrapped it tightly around himself. Ah, better. In a few minutes he was no longer feeling as if his legs were captured in blocks of ice. When he thought he can safely move without risking that his teeth would start to clatter, he opened up the package to admire the present he couldn’t give to his little brother yet.

 

Although the wrapping paper got a bit wet, the collar itself was luckily unharmed. Hashirama run his fingers through the white, silky-soft fur. It was more than nice to the touch. Tobirama would surely forget all his anger when he’d get his hands on it. He was a genius to think about this, it was the perfect way to say sorry.

 

He lay back, starting to feel comfortably warm under his thick cover. This was the only legit way to spend time when the weather was like this, no wonder the streets were so empty. It was just crazy people like him and his brother who were out. Must be a Senju thing.

 

But of course that was not entirely true. Crazy Uchihas were roaming the world too, out on some godforsaken mission they didn’t really have a business to be.

 

Hashirama sighed. If he wanted to be petty, he could blame the whole ruining the collar thing on Madara. He - more specifically, his absence - was why the whole sake drinking, and arguing with Tobirama happened. He really, _really_ wished he was finally back. Staying behind while his lover was risking his neck, just because he was the Hokage and that was what the Hokage supposed to do, was frustrating to put it gently.

 

He hoped the other man would be back soon. He tended to have cold hands and feet even on summer days - he could just imagine how chilly they have to be now. Hashirama would make sure to warm him up and not just with soft blankets and hot tea.

 

He’d lay his lover down on the mattress, and cover his skinny body with his own. Madara would of course complain, but apparently he thought it a must to always complain and protest, or alternatively insult him for his greediness, before giving in to pleasure. Hashirama at first thought is strange, but by now got used to it. If that was foreplay for Madara, so be it.

 

So, once they’d get over the obligatory round of how he was a pig and how Madara didn’t want anything from him, Hashirama would take his hands and kiss his fingers one by one. He had really beautiful hands, with strong, but lean digits, calloused from yielding weapons since he could hold them. He’d kiss them until they warmed up and until they started to curl inwards. Kiss them until Madara would no longer be able to resist touching him back, to wrap his arms around his back and fit their bodies closely together.

 

Hashirama sighed, shifting under his blanket. He was starting to get aroused with his daydreaming.

 

He pictured how he would run his palm down on Madara’s back, feeling the bumps of his spine, his springy, hard, battle-toned muscles. The rough texture of old scars on his pale skin, making sure he didn’t get any new one on his mission. The Uchiha would pretend he’s annoyed with his pampering, but he’d still lean into his probing caresses. He might even hide his face in the crook of Hashirama’s neck. It was a small, unconscious gesture that the Senju loved - it made him feel strong, made him feel needed and wanted by Madara.

 

So yes, he’d do that, and Hashirama would pull him even closer. He would run his fingers through his lover’s wild locks - cold, wet weather did something amazing to his hair. Madara of course hated how it became even more unmanageable, standing in every direction and being fuzzy - something his hair wasn’t normally. But in weather like this, it became soft like baby animal fur.

 

Hashirama’s fingers found the collar lying next to him, and run over its silky surface, imagining it was Madara’s hair he caressed. His other palm slid down his own stomach and, giving into his growing need, grabbed his hardening cock.

 

His hand pumping leisurely while his mind has taking a happy trip on fantasy land, it took him no time to become fully erect. He groaned out loud as he continued to picture what he’d do when Madara finally returned. How he’d slid down on his body, taking his nipple into his mouth to bite down on it gently… that would make the other man buck below him, thrusting his hip against his stomach, so Hashirama could feel he was hard as rock. He’d make one of those little, stifled whimpers that always made the Senju lose his mind as he kissed his way lower and lower to take his erection into his mouth. How he’d gasp, still doing his best to keep silent as if he could fool Hashirama into believing what he was doing didn’t have an effect on the proud Uchiha… How he’d lose that game finally, grabbing the back of his head and urge the Senju to suck him off.

 

Eyes closed firmly, Hashirama didn’t try to conceal his own excited moans.  He was getting too warm under the blanket, so he threw it off. He pulled his legs under himself, raising his lower half off the mattress as he thrust into the firm grip of his right hand, the urge to come building in him rapidly, wishing Madara was with him already.

 

He wanted to turn him on his stomach, to feel him relax against him as he accepted him inside. He’d push into him slowly, even if he was trembling with need to slam into him, to penetrate him as deeply as possible, he’d hold himself back until his lover growled on a low, throaty voice to stop fooling around and fuck him finally.

 

Then Hashirama would do as he was told, he’d grab his hair, burrow his face in that glorious mane as he’d put his whole body into pounding the other man, fuck him until both of them were weak-kneed with pleasure…

 

“Madara…” he growled, hand pumping furiously on his cock. Unconsciously his grip closed around the fur collar, raising it to his face, pretending it was indeed the other man’s hair he was burying his nose in, that was tickling his neck, his chest with its silky ends, and he was so damned close and his fantasy was so real he could _feel_ Madara’s presence…

 

He could feel Madara’s presence.

 

Releasing a rather shaky breath, he opened his eyes to look at his lover standing outside on the roof, watching him through the foggy window. He didn’t seem exactly pleased with what he was witnessing, but he did look mildly intrigued, so Hashirama let go of his prick with a bit of reluctance, to let him in.

 

“Am I interrupting something?” the Uchiha asked drily. He was slightly flushed, but maybe that was simply because of the cold. Hashirama, torn between frustration that he couldn’t finish when he’d been just on the brink of orgasm and joy to see his lover back and apparently whole, didn’t even deign that comment with an answer.

 

He stepped close, even though Madara’s clammy clothes felt like ice on his hot skin and kissed the shorter man. The time apart was so long, apparently even for Madara, as he didn’t even pretend to object. At least until Hashirama didn’t embrace him with both arms - he still had Tobirama’s new collar in his left hand, and when it touched Madara’s neck, he flinched and stepped back.

 

“What is this… fur… thing?”

 

“Oh, it’s just…” he didn’t finish the sentence, as the Uchiha obviously recognised what exactly it was as his expression shifted from mild curiosity to outright disgust.

 

“Why were you ,” he asked on a low voice, barely louder than a whisper “tossing off to your brother’s… fluff?”

 

I was very difficult not to laugh when faced with such question, but Madara appeared so scandalized, that it would have been a very bad idea. It was also difficult to deny - he was after all tossing off with the collar in his hand… over his face...yes, Madara was surely getting a very wrong idea, especially as he couldn’t hear Hashirama moaning _his_ name.

 

“It’s really not what you think,” he tried to save the situation, but it sounded lame even to his own ears.

 

“Oh… so what it is then?”

 

“I was simply… well. I had to buy a new collar for Tobirama as the old one got ruined, but I couldn’t give it to him yet, so it’s here for the time being.”

 

“...and you used the opportunity to sniff it while…”

 

“It’s was really only because it’s so soft...It made me think about…”

 

“I absolutely don’t want to know what you were thinking about…”

 

“...your hair.”

 

“It’s white.”

 

“But it’s silky and fluffy.”

 

“ _My hair,”_ Madara said with indignation “is neither silky _nor_ fluffy.”

 

“But it is, now,” he reached out to caress the real thing, and was happy when the Uchiha didn’t pull back. Nor did he protest when he leaned in to kiss him deeply. Hashirama was starting to feel cold again, standing naked in the room. Madara’s body was temptingly hot under those wet, icy clothes. He had to get him out of them as soon as possible.

 

“Don’t touch me with that thing,” his lover mumbled when he started to undress him, the fur collar still in his hand. “You’re really a freak,” there was no real menace behind those words, so Hashirama ignored them. It mattered more how Madara, now half naked, sighed, closed his eyes and allowed him to kiss his neck. Such a vulnerable spot. He rarely let his guard down so, he must have really missed Hashirama as well. He kissed and suckled gently the tender skin there, and Madara let him, encouraged him with more deep sighs that were almost, but not quite moans.

 

He didn’t seem to mind that the soft white fur of Tobirama’s present was pressing against his face any longer. When Hashirama experimentally caressed his cheek, his neck, his collarbone with it, he leaned into the touch, apparently not giving it a conscious thought what he was doing. Encouraged, the Senju run it down his sides, his chest, down on his flat stomach, so low until he could watch with satisfaction how the soft white fur touched the black trail of hair running down from below Madara’s navel to his groin.

 

“What are you doing?” Madara questioned him, but his tone was languid and sensual rather than annoyed. Hashirama concentrated on getting him out from the rest of his clothes and into the bed, and the Uchiha seemed to forget about receiving an answer.

 

Once he gently pushed his lover on his back, Hashirama pulled back to admire the view. Madara was relaxed - at least as relaxed as he could ever be - lean, battle-shaped muscles not straining for once, heavy eyelids lowered. The look he shot from under them boiled the Senju’s blood. His wet, untamable hair spread out, framing his face. Hashirama thought that he could almost, _almost_ be satisfied just by looking at him.

 

Madara tolerated his staring for a few heartbeats only. When he pushed himself up to his elbows, Hashirama didn’t wait for him to open his mouth. Rather, he straddled his waist, leaning down to cover his body, pretty much as he’s been fantasizing about doing it and kissed him again. Madara’s lips moved against his own, soft, it was always surprisingly soft. Ha moaned when their tongues bumped, he cupped the Uchiha’s face with one hand as they deepened the kiss. In no time he was already making small, humping movements against the shorter man’s thighs, while Madara was grasping his hair so firmly as if he never wanted to let him go.

 

It wasn’t as if Hashirama wanted him to let go either, he was just afraid that we would be coming in any moment this way, his pent up excitement getting too much. And although simply just letting it go, to come like this, with urgency of fumbling boys had its appeal, now that Madara was finally back, it would had been a waste.

 

He pulled back and Madara groaned in frustration.

 

“I’m sorry,” he placed an apologetic kiss on his lover’s sharp hipbone.

 

“Why can’t things be simple with you, you damned Senju?”

 

“You are fine to talk…”

 

“What do you mean by that?”

 

“Nothing,” he kissed him quickly again, as the last thing he wanted was an argument. Madara mumbled something - a curse, an insult, maybe that he loved him - against his lips. Hashirama caressed his face, reaching out to find the phial of oil he recently started to always keep at hand.

 

“Why are you still hugging onto this bloody thing? It freaks me out.”

 

“Oh,” frankly, he didn’t even notice that he still had the collar in his hand. “Why, it’s so soft,” he run it down the Uchiha’s naked torso, watching as goosebumps of excitement rose on that pale, scarred skin. Wrapping the fur around his hand, he tickled Madara’s nipples with the silky hairs, circled them one after the other with the tips of his fingers, pinching them gently. The other man didn’t seem to be disturbed by the collar, to be honest.

 

He didn’t protest against it touch when Hashirama caressed his hips, his abdomen with it either, when his hand slid low enough to play with black, curly pubic hair. Hashirama’s mouth was too busy to remark on this - and it wouldn’t have been a good idea anyway - as he was kissing and licking those pale, erect nipples, scraping teeth against them in a way he knew would make Madara buck into his touch.

 

“Hashirama…” there was desperation and order in that tone, so he took pity on him - or obeyed his command, depending on how he looked at it - and let his fur-enfolded right hand slid even lower, to tease his lover’s cock. It was already hard enough to lie against his flat stomach, thick vein on its underside clearly visible, twitching when the collar’s silky surface touched it. Madara repeated his name with even more urgency when he cupped his balls and tried to thrust into his grip.

 

“Just give me a second,” the Senju mumbled, giving up finding the oil rummaging about blindly. Madara sighed with impatience, and pushed on his shoulder with more force than necessary, urging him to go where he wanted him to be…

 

“Yesss,” he hissed his approval when Hashirama took his erection into his mouth. His fingers wove into the taller man’s hair, not pulling on it, but with a surprisingly affectionate touch. He let him dictate the pace, tongue lapping at the tip, than taking the organ in as deeply as he managed. Practice makes perfect as they say, and really, he was getting better and better in this with each occasion. Maybe it was stupid to feel pride over enhancing his skills at blowjobs, but oh well, who would ever know?

 

He took his lover by surprise when he caressed his inner thighs with the fluffy collar, but the half-stifled moan and the deep thrust upwards were tell-tale enough that it was a pleasant surprise. He wriggled his fingers out from the fur, to dip them into oil, then bringing them to Madara’s arse, sliding them into the crack and circling his hole, and his lover opened his legs wider to provide him better access.

 

He was not an expert - yet - enough to manage loosening his lover up and sucking him off at the same time, so he settled for kissing all around his hips, his thighs, his crotch as he pushed first one, then soon enough a second finger up his body. He was as hard as Madara, feeling about to burst from the sight of his lover being so accepting. They had a long road to here, often enough he’d felt that Madara wouldn’t even look at him as a friend again. He’d been so distant, often hostile, even after their peace was made. It took Hashirama insane amount of effort for him to give a try to be close again, not just as friends this time, but as lovers. To reach where they were today - when Hashirama could wait him to come back _-to come home-_ when Madara would do just that, come to him as soon as he was back in the village… that was more than a dream come true.

 

“I love you,” he said against his taut stomach, where pale, soft skin was marked by a rough, old scar. Madara just hmm-d something incomprehensible as a reply, he might have not even heard him, but that was all right. Hashirama didn’t really need words.

 

He sat back on his heels, pulling his fingers out, to lubricate his prick. Madara shot him a heavy-lidded, smouldering glance, before turning on his stomach, supporting his weight on his knees and arms. Not being able to delay any longer, Hashirama guided his erection to the other’s opening, pushing slowly, torturously slowly into him.

 

He stayed still, when he was fully _in,_ as much to give his lover time to adjust to his length as to give himself time to try to get his excitement in check, so he wouldn’t come just straight away.

 

He started to move, and things were no longer slow. Madara pushed back to meet his thrusts, his head between his arms, his back arched like a large, sleek cat’s. Hashirama grabbed his hip with one hand, pushing into him with increasingly single minded determination. It was somehow still not enough contact, so he leaned in on the other’s back, supporting his weight on his left arm, next to where Madara’s fingers were grabbing the sheets. He was panting into the other's neck, kissing his hair, pushing his face into that black mane, to kiss his nape.

 

“Hashirama…” Madara sounded as breathless as him, making him smile in satisfaction. His oily, fur-coated fingers run down on the shorter man’s side and grabbed his prick. Madara pushed into the soft whiteness, thrust back to meet the Senju’s cock, and that was it. He was gasping, coming, and there was no way Hashirama could have held back any more, his orgasm shaking his whole body. He was still for a moment until he emptied all his semen into the other man, than they collapsed, he on Madara, Madara on the fluffy, sticky, ruined fur that was supposed to be his brother’s present, but screw that, he’d just get him another. Maybe he’d order a dozen of them and keep eleven, if they were such a wonderful addition to their sexlife.

 

“Why are you laughing,” Madara asked with some suspicion, turning his head to peer at him. Hashirama somehow willed his boneless limbs to move, getting off the other’s body to face him and kiss him.

 

“I’m just happy,” he replied, once their lips parted.

 

“You’re such a fool,” the Uchiha pointed it out. It actually sounded affectionate.

 

“So you keep telling me.”

 

Madara didn’t comment that. He fished the soggy fur from beneath himself and with a show of disgust, threw it out of arm's’ reach.

 

“I’ll have to buy a new one for Tobirama,” he regretted saying it - post-sex bliss was easily ruined by talks about his brother, but for once, Madara seemed too sated to mind.

 

“Please don’t,” he simply replied, letting Hashirama pull him close and throw the cover over them. “I won’t be able to look him in the eye ever again if he wears such a thing.”

 

Hashirama kissed him again rather than telling him that wasn’t an option.

 

In no time he was slipping into a happy dream about buying a huge, incredibly soft pelt. He’d cover the bed he and Madara would share forever with it. His lover wound lay down on it, smile at him, telling him on a low tone that maybe he’d never let him get up from it.

 

Hashirama smiled in his sleep.

  
 ****  
FIN  
  
  



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